by Aimee Duffy
‘He’s right. My family’s reputation is untarnished.’ Or it would be, until she started officially dating the Playboy of tennis. ‘I could be his undercover publicist while showing the world he’s turned over a new leaf.’
Why was she even agreeing to this madness? A glance at the huge, angry manager who was all but puffing out his chest sent a shot of icy fear down her spine.
‘By dating the honourable Miss Simpson.’ Sebastian grinned and blood rushed to her cheeks.
She wasn’t honourable, far from it, but nobody other than her family knew that and she planned to keep it that way.
Mr Maine frowned at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this idea of yours?’
Collins jumped in, diverting that cold stare from her. ‘My idea. It’s the perfect way to start her plan, and it means we can hide the fact I hired Maine. The press will think I’m making the changes by myself and will hopefully get off my back.’
Tony clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Good thinking. It wouldn’t have killed you to tell me, though.’
‘Mr Collins, I’d like to point out that this is not standard practice.’ Mr Maine’s expression turned serious. ‘We have strict rules about our staff getting involved with clients. However, I will make an exception this once since the relationship is a ruse.’
Alicia heard the warning in Mr Maine’s cool tone and didn’t doubt Sebastian had, either. She was still reeling, not allowing herself to think of what would happen in the days and weeks to come.
‘I hear what you’re saying and appreciate your concessions,’ Sebastian said.
He pulled the contract from his pocket and smoothed it out on the table. In black scrawl across the bottom was his signature. It was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. She sagged back into her chair and released the breath she’d been holding.
Tony rose with Sebastian and they headed for the exit. For once, she used the distraction of his body to take her mind off what she feared the most. It worked, but not in the way she hoped.
Her skin flushed and her hands itched to trace the muscles beneath his light blue polo.
Collins turned at the door and winked at her, lighting up a libido she’d long thought extinct. ‘I’ll be in touch, Blondie.’
What had she done?
Alicia closed the door to her flat a little after seven. She was exhausted, right down to her bones. Not to mention shell-shocked. Her worst nightmares couldn’t even compare to what had happened today. All because she’d been determined to score the almighty Sebastian Collins as a client.
She laughed once, but it wasn’t because she found this situation funny. Quite the opposite.
As she trailed through her home, leaving the lights off to ease the buzzing in her head, her phone beeped, reminding her she had close to twenty missed calls from her father. She couldn’t bear to face the lecture she’d get. His middle child, the disappointing one, trailing his precious family name through the mud.
Again.
She threw her handbag down on the coffee table and headed straight for the wine rack.
This was like the incident in high school, but made public. And if she wanted to keep her job, it would be even more public than the first soul-crushing ‘spectacle’. No, she couldn’t face anything right now except a huge glass of red.
After the first went down too quickly, Alicia poured herself another. She felt a bit braver, even pulled out her phone to see there were three voicemail messages. No texts, but her father didn’t have a mobile. He preferred to call from his country manor, like some Lord of the Realm. Not a man who’d inherited a fortune and a title from his ancestors.
Ancestors who had brought him up to be the cold aristocrat he was today.
Her phone started ringing. A number she didn’t recognise flashed across the screen. Alicia prayed it was Daria or Sylvia so she could have them test out their father’s mood before she returned his calls. But they’d call from their phones, and both were at opposite ends of the world at the moment.
Stop being a wimp.
Taking a deep breath, she answered.
‘Evening, Blondie. Do you miss me yet?’
Her hand tightened on her phone until the plastic creaked.
‘Haven’t you annoyed me enough for one day?’ she asked.
His laugh shuddered through the speaker, but she was too mad to let the rough sound affect her. There was no reason for Collins kissing her yesterday, and she had no defence for not stopping it. Well, she’d learned her lesson. Really bad things come from being associated with him. With her job on the line, she didn’t have much choice other than to go along with his plan. But that didn’t mean privately.
‘I thought you’d be nicer after I saved you from a spanking.’
Her face flamed and the tingles drove through her, shooting straight to between her thighs. Gulping down half the glass didn’t help, but it gave her time to remember who she was. Or more importantly, the kind of person she refused to be again. ‘What do you want, Collins?’
‘Straight to business. Do you ever take ten minutes for fun?’
She could hear the mocking in his tone, could imagine the slow smirk and twinkle in his eyes that said he was laughing at her. Irritation fizzled under her skin, raising her temperature again but for a better reason. A reason she could accept.
Then again, she had to hope he did a one-eighty fast, and that the press bought into his turnaround. Otherwise she was stuck in Hades on earth with a man who was going to be the end of her.
‘Mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea.’ Even she cringed at her haughty tone – it was too much like her mother’s. Picking up her glass, she drained it. The wine curled around her stomach, sending a warm glow throughout her body.
Collins laughed again and her skin broke out in goosebumps. She refilled the glass.
‘Maybe you’re right, but business is always more fun when you mix it up a little.’
Was he flirting with her? She blinked to clear the shock, then took another gulp to calm the flutters in her stomach. ‘This isn’t about fun. It’s about saving your career.’
His heavy sigh sounded in her ear, but she didn’t think he’d give up that easily. ‘Now we’re officially a couple, we should go over your plan again and make the adjustments. Plus, you still need to get my contacts for the charity program.’
Alicia gritted her teeth. ‘It’s late and I’m off the clock.’
‘Think again, Blondie. The deal with Maine makes you mine all around the clock.’
Her mouth dropped open, but nothing came out but air.
‘I’m training tomorrow, but you could swing by with a protein shake at twelve. The press usually sniff around, so it’ll be good fodder. Then I was thinking we could do a proper press release, come out as a couple, you know. And –’
‘Sebastian, stop!’
Her heart was beating so hard, mimicking the pounding in her skull. This wouldn’t work. She couldn’t imagine spending all that time as his girlfriend. He’d drive her to violence, or worse –into his bed. Putting the heat thrumming through her veins down to the wine, she forced herself to think of more realistic problems.
Like the public shame she’d bring down on her father, one who was no doubt considering disowning her after one picture.
‘What did I say?’ he asked, his cautious tone suggesting he could sense her panic.
‘There has to be another way to do this.’ After all, getting ahead in her career was only going to kick her further down the social scale – not that she really cared; since she’d moved to London she’d managed to avoid that circle.
But her family still cared.
He took a long time to answer and she spent it playing with the stem of her empty glass. At last, he said, ‘Alicia, I’m only trying to do what’s best for us both. Maine was threatening to discipline you and my manager was about to give the contract to another company. Convincing the world we really are a couple is the only way to go, or we both lose out.’
/> Gratitude was the last thing she wanted to feel, especially toward him. Especially imagining what her father would say. But Sebastian had done everything he could to keep her from a disciplinary, still winning her the contract.
She’d just have to find a way to deal with her father.
‘OK, I’ll be there at noon.’
He whispered something like, two to me, then said louder, ‘Catch you later.’
‘Wait,’ she said, unable to let that slide.
‘Shoot.’
The cockiness in that one word loosened her tongue, or maybe it was the wine. ‘Don’t expect me to be your slave, Collins, because it’s not going to happen. Tomorrow I’m laying down the rules, and you’re going to stick to them.’
She disconnected, unable to keep a grin off her face. He’d signed, and pulling from the contract would be harder, but she didn’t think he would anyway. He needed her help, maybe more than she needed her job, so she wasn’t going to bow down to his demands.
The feeling of triumph only lasted until she glanced down at the blinking voicemail message on the screen of her phone. She wanted to crawl into bed and hide, but for the first time in a long time she felt brave. Still, she poured another glass of wine and took a deep breath before she called her father.
Time to get this over with.
Chapter Four
The sun had long since set, but Juliette stayed in her chair in the drawing room, gazing out of the window with a glass of wine in one hand and an almost empty bottle on the table next to her. She’d always wondered what life would be like if she hadn’t been raised the way she had, married a man with a title who was colder than the marble lining the dining room floor. A man who expected her to have the same disposition he did.
If she could live again, be young just for a little while, would she be here, surrounded by riches that could never hope to warm the chill in her heart no matter how vast? Juliette didn’t know, but what she did was that dreaming of another life, a life like her daughters had in front of them, was the only reason she was here. If she had to live with no escape from the hard reality by days and nights, she would have swallowed one of the bottles of Prozac their family doctor had been prescribing her for years.
Washed down with a bottle of something stronger than Merlot.
Being her father’s daughter meant her future had been written for her before her mother had even given birth. She would grace the arm of a noble earl, bring great respect to his family, and have children by the dozen who would inevitably inherit his fortune.
She’d had children. Children she’d fought hard for so they could have a reasonably normal life. She’d had to force herself on many occasions to seduce a husband who had no more interest in lovemaking with her than she had with him. An heir to his title was the only reason he chose to procreate. The bitter memories left an awful taste on her tongue that Merlot couldn’t dissipate.
Her fantasies were more attractive than the cruel reality that was her life.
The drawing room door flew open and Arthur stormed in with all the grace of a raging bull. ‘She won’t listen to me, but when has she ever? I can’t even force her hand this time. I don’t know why we didn’t put her up for adoption at birth!’
Every nerve ending in her body thawed under the heat of the anger boiling in her blood. She didn’t turn to face her husband, instead she watched her own reflection in the window carefully, making sure not one twitch or frown uncovered her rage.
‘She’s your daughter.’ The words were delivered with too much ice for a lady, but after what Arthur had put her through on returning from their honeymoon, as far as she was concerned she was entitled to the occasional slip-up.
‘My daughter,’ he scoffed. ‘Are you certain she is? No daughter of mine would shame the family like this. And so publicly!’
‘Darling.’ She forced the words out past others a lady of her upbringing would never dare speak. ‘You know what you’re accusing me of –’
A sigh cut through her verbal attempt to castrate him, making the hairs stand up on the nape of her neck.
‘That was inexcusable,’ he said – which she accepted as the most she would get by way of an apology.
His hands landed on her shoulders and her muscles automatically stiffened. He wrapped a loose strand of her hair around his finger. ‘Dear Juliette. So kind, so generous. I wonder sometimes if you are, in fact, not adopted yourself.’
Though she could see him in the reflection on the glass, she dared not meet his gaze. He could surely read every shred of hatred she had for him in that moment. It never seemed to please him when she did or said something that showed she was not as cruel as her father. She took another sip of wine. Arthur sighed.
‘Another bottle? This is becoming more than a habit, darling.’
If only he knew about the bottle of rum she kept in her private suite for after he’d retired for the night. She’d hidden her ‘habits’ from him since their youngest daughter had left the house. It hadn’t been difficult. A long time ago, she’d learned from him exactly how to cover up scandal, and over the years she’d earned a degree in it.
A lady never shrugged. A lady never argued with her husband. Juliette had no choice other than to do what she’d always done – put the night to the back of her mind with the other memories best not spent dwelling upon.
‘I opened this bottle on Monday.’ She had opened a similar bottle. What her husband didn’t know was that the gardener brought her another every day and quietly disposed of the evidence.
‘Hmm.’ Thankfully, he released her and moved so he was no longer reflected in the window. ‘I have things to organise. If you need me, I’ll be in my study.’
I have never needed you. She never would. All she had left was to count down the days until death freed her – at this point she did not care if it was hers or his. ‘Darling, do not overreact to this rumour. I’m sure the press are exaggerating. He could be her new client.’
His footsteps halted. ‘Alicia confirmed it when I called. She is tainting the Simpson name with that sorry excuse for a man. I will not let it continue.’
Sweat slicked Sebastian’s back and chest as he tore across the court. He swung the racket, lobbing the ball back to his trainer’s side, watching it bounce once before it shot over the line. James’ swing was half a second too late.
The thrill of the win drove the adrenaline higher, until he almost shook with it. They were both breathing hard. They’d been at the gym for hours and Sebastian was just getting into his stride. A week of early nights and constant training was paying off. James barely got a win past him the last few days.
Grinning, he said, ‘Need a time out, old man?’
The look James shot him only made him smile wider.
‘I whipped you on Monday, or are you choosing to forget that?’
Frowning, Sebastian made his way to the bench. Yeah, he chose to forget Monday, and the month before. Instead of answering, he pulled the cap off his water bottle and chugged half the contents. James took the same desperately needed drink from his own bottle.
Sebastian glanced at his watch for the fifth time in the last hour. The minutes seemed to creep by, mocking the ridiculous anticipation he had to see Alicia. After she promised to lay down the law in her strict, Lady of the Manor voice, he’d wanted to find out exactly what she had in mind. Just so he could see if he could make her bend her rules.
‘Best out of three?’ he asked, trying to take his focus off the blonde.
Accepting the challenge, James picked his racket up and they both headed to the court.
‘You can’t have built up all your endurance after a month off, Collins. I reckon after the sixth you’ll lose your stride.’
Maybe, but he had something he didn’t have much of before – incentive. Now he was facing what slacking off could do for his career, Sebastian was more determined than ever to get back to where he was before it all went to shit at Wimbledon. In fact, scratch that. He needed to be be
tter. The sport was all he had, all he could trust, and there was no one to mess it up other than himself.
‘How about you serve and find out, or are you worried your talk’s nothing but hot air?’ Taking position at the far corner, he prepared himself for a sneaky shot from his trainer.
‘Guess we’ll see.’
James’ serve was like lightning, but Sebastian was ready and hit the ball back with everything he had. They both played as if they had something to prove, like their life depended on the win. Blood and adrenaline coursed through him, the feeling as addictive as winning. The challenge James presented made overused muscles feel fresh, the breath sawing through his lungs exhilarating.
His trainer stumbled to the right, guessing Sebastian’s next move. Seeing his chance, he bolted across the court, swinging his racket with calculation, and was rewarded with a wide-eyed look from James as he swung wildly and missed the ball.
‘What was that you were saying about my endurance?’ he asked, swiping the sweat from his forehead.
‘It won’t last. Not through three more sets.’
‘You’re on, old man.’ Sebastian went for another ball, but a figure in the doorway caught his attention.
He turned all the way around, his mouth dropping open at the sight. Blondie wore a purple top that barely encased her breasts and flashed a hint of pearly skin above low-rise jeans that were so tight they could have been painted on. Her hair fell in loose waves down to her elbows. So much better than he imagined it would.
With his mouth feeling like someone had stuffed it with grit and his mind stunned to blank, he could only gape.
James’ whistle from behind him made her cheeks tinge pink. That snapped him back to reality. ‘What the hell are you wearing?’
She looked down at herself and the colour in her cheeks darkened. ‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’
She stormed toward him, clutching a bottle of what looked like a shake from the local supermarket. The fire was back in her eyes. He couldn’t tell if the blush was anger or embarrassment.
‘Since when do you invite your women to training?’ James asked.
